The Smoke in the Air Couldn't Hide My Shame
by Foibles and Fables
Summary: “So, what’s your story?” she asked him as their drinks were being poured. Derek took the bitter smile that crossed his face and tried to make it nonchalant. An alternate ending to 3.24 Testing 1-2-3 .


**I don't know what possessed me to do this. If you've been waiting for other writings from me, this has been my time-sucking block for about two weeks. It's done, now, thank God. And I know a lot of people aren't going to like it, but it intrigued me. Anyways, this is an alternate ending to 3.24, Testing 1-2-3. I have some kind of major fear about writing Derek or something, too.**

**Disclaimer: Grey's Anatomy is the property of Shonda Rhimes and ABC. This writing is for entertainment purposes only and is not for profit.  
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Despite everything, Derek was doing his job. Even though everything he had worked so hard to create was beginning to disintegrate, he was still going to make sure that the night's outing was perfect for Burke, going to throw a great little bachelor party. He couldn't let anything get in the way of that, not the Meredith thing, not the Chief thing. Because that's just what Derek Shepherd did: kept on chugging through life through anything, through Addison, through the divorce, through everything. That's just who he was, and the best Best Man to boot.

But being him was proving to be awfully hard lately.

Tonight he wanted to forget. He wanted to spend time with Burke on his last day as a bachelor. He wanted to maybe reconnect with Mark despite everything, and even Addison. It would be the four of them, the "adults," enjoying a few drinks and some prenuptial revelry.

At least that was how he planned it.

When Derek first arrived at Joe's, he didn't expect to be totally drunk and in the driver's seat of some attractive dark haired girl's parked car, nearly fucking her.

It started innocently enough. It was his turn to get the next round, so he shouldered his way through the throngs of college students and strangers and up to the bar. Halfway to his destination, he passed her. This girl was cute, lovely even. Great body, beautiful eyes, sleek hair, kind smile. How could he not acknowledge her when they made eye contact? All he gave her was a small grin and nod, which she promptly returned; no harm, no foul.

Until she followed him to the bar, that is. Then subsequently greeted him and asked to buy him a drink.

"Whoa," he replied with a slightly amused chuckle at the girl's hopefulness. "You're forward." It wasn't the first time someone had asked to buy him a drink, but there was a certain novelty to this one that he couldn't put his finger on.

She smiled enigmatically, glancing down at the bar. "Bad day," she stated vaguely, nodding solemnly. She looked back up at him and he realized that lovely was an understatement. "I get to be forward today."

Her voice was quite appealing, traveling down his spine in a good way, and in spite of everything Derek had to continue the conversation. Besides, he was pretty close to miserable and misery loved company. "Yeah. I had a bad day too."

He fidgeted as she narrowed her eyes and smirked almost imperceptibly. Victorious. "So, what do you say, one drink?" The coy smile came through more strongly.

Derek came to his senses, then, caught himself. That was it; he couldn't let this go any farther. He still had obligations, even though the feelings behind them were cloudy. He sighed and wrung his hands, trying to excuse himself. "Um, I'm here with some friends, it's a bachelor party." He glanced at her ruefully. "So I'm gonna…"

The words "I'm gonna say no" were about to fall from his lips. But, they didn't. His sentence trailed off as he looked over his shoulder at the spot where Burke, Mark, and Addison were. They hadn't noticed his prolonged absence yet. Mark was nudging a deadpan Burke with his elbow, wearing an instigative grin, as Addison watched them with a faintly entertained expression.

Then Derek looked back at this girl, this shameless stranger. At another glance, it turned out that she wasn't just a stranger after all. She was a chance at an escape, a distraction, one of the chances that Derek Shepherd only took once in a blue moon.

He took one almost a year earlier just a few barstools down.

Beyond his control, he was about to take another.

"You know, why not?"

It didn't feel like he had said it, but he did.

The girl smiled at him with relief and once again proved herself as incredibly pretty. She hailed the bartender and Derek was very glad that Joe was elsewhere in the place. He probably wouldn't judge him, but he definitely was a gossip. Still, he had been so preoccupied lately with Rina, the twins, and Walter that his brain most likely couldn't fathom anything except sonograms and nurseries.

So instead, one of Joe's employees, a kid who to Derek looked like he must have been a grad student at U-Dub, took their drink orders. The girl, still beaming, looked and Derek and prompted him to order.

Derek tried to keep his voice down. "Double scotch, single malt." With that, he realized that he was one step closer to waking up naked on someone's living room floor. Again.

"And a shot of tequila for me," the girl added (that should have been his first warning).

"So, what's your story?" she asked him as their drinks were being poured. He took the bitter smile that crossed his face and tried to make it nonchalant.

"I don't have a story," he replied. "I'm just a guy in a bar." The girl nodded and fingered the base of the glass that had just been placed in front of her.

"I'm just a girl in a bar."

It made Derek ache for a few seconds.

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Time passed. One drink turned into two, and then into three, and Derek remained at the bar with his new friend. In the meantime, something emergent happened with Rina so Addison took her and Joe, along with Burke to the hospital. Mark left a short while after them, staying to hit on one of the bar's other female patrons. He ended up leaving alone in the end, but didn't seem all that upset about it. On his way out, he caught Derek's eye before giving the girl a good long glance. Then, Mark winked at him and stealthily exited.

Mark wouldn't tell anyone, Derek knew (hoped). He owed him at least that much. Also, he was probably proud in his mistaken belief that Derek had just decided to join him in the league of manwhores.

The conversation had gotten better since the intervention of the alcohol. Basic information, the weather, current events, all that. Nothing personal. Not even an exchange of names. It was his turn to buy a round when she asked him another question. "You said you had a bad day," she commented, eyeing her new drink greedily. It wasn't a question but was definitely a prompt to explain.

"Problems at work," he told her after a moment of hesitation and it wasn't totally a lie. He took a swig of his scotch. "You?"

Her smile resembled a grimace more than anything. "Funeral," she replied, making a sweeping gesture over her body and for the first time Derek noticed that she wearing all black. He winced.

"I'm so sorry."

"It's…" She shook her head and her shiny jet locks glinted under the dim light. "I'm fine." She downed her shot. It wasn't entirely convincing and suddenly Derek recalled something about a funeral happening tonight. It was dull and fuzzy around the edges, thanks to all the scotch. There had to be at least twenty funerals going on in Seattle that night, right?

"That's why I'm in Seattle. I live in Massachusetts. Well, _lived_ in Massachusetts," the girl corrected herself. "After all this, I'm not so sure. I don't know what's going to happen now." She laughed and the reaction probably would have been different if she hadn't been imbibed with tequila. "I hate that feeling, you know?"

Derek nodded and polished off his own drink. He knew it all too well. He'd known it several times.

He had been feeling it the day before, that day, and was feeling it at that very moment.

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He didn't technically cheat until the bar was all but empty.

By then, the alcohol wasn't merely a helper, it was a doer. In a lingering moment of silence and this connection that was kind of haunting in a false way, he leaned in and kissed the girl. It wasn't a deep kiss, just a press of his lips to hers for about three cold seconds; and then pulled away, the tiniest amount, their mouths still bumping and brushing against one another. Her breaths were short against his skin, and suddenly Derek was unhinged, kissing her again and opening his mouth against hers.

His hand tangled in her medium dark locks; the whole time, he had to force himself not to imagine long dishwater blonde.

When he made himself break away from her and made sure that it stayed that way this time, her porcelain cheeks colored and she closed her eyes, wearing a tiny smile.

"You're forward," she remarked, her voice shier than she originally came off as but still was like a hot poker and an icicle had stabbed Derek's stomach at the same time. This was going somewhere, fast, and at that point Derek wasn't sure if he wanted to stop it or not.

The kid behind the bar had impeccably good timing then. He cleared his throat and proudly announced the final call, probably for the first time in his life. Someone in the back of the place, a friend, yelled his name mockingly and he blushed deeply before shouting back.

The girl glanced between the contestants in the shouting match and let out a single drunken giggle. Then, she turned to Derek and nudged him with her elbow. "Hey," she said with a sultry, devious smile, "want to get out of here?"

Derek bit his lower lip in hesitance. He had been dreading this moment since the instant this girl bought him that first drink. He knew it was coming – it had to be – but there was still that tiny glimmer of hope that she just wanted some conversation after a hard day. They had reached the fork in the road; turn left and leave with this stranger, risking the house of cards he'd built and had been exhausting himself to maintain in what now seemed like his other life; turn right and refuse, go home and be alone with his thoughts, which is nowhere near where he wanted to be.

Neither option was particularly satisfying. But he couldn't leave with her. It wasn't fair to Meredith, it wasn't fair to this girl, and it definitely wasn't fair to himself. The answer simply had to be no. He prepared himself to say it, forming the protest firm and clear in his head.

By the time it reached his lips, it had diminished into a nearly silent indecisive exhalation. His stomach churned.

His denial had been strong, his self-control expert. He hadn't been planning on making the mistake. Until the very last second when he veered left and, much to the girl's delight, moved. Despite everything inside of him screaming no, he stood from the barstool in subdued and defeated confirmation. His ears were ringing and his skin felt like it was on fire. The girl's smile broadened as she, too, stood. "Come on," she said, and he had to follow. She grasped his wrist and pulled him along, feet falling clumsily on the floor.

As soon as they stepped through the door and into the dark night, the outside air washed them, nearly balmy. They staggered across the parking lot. She was giggling dizzily and it was contagious so he had to let out a few laughs too. Before he knew what was going on, she had led him to a silver sedan, presumably her car. It was in a more abandoned section of the lot, far away from the building, and he couldn't help but think it was on purpose.

She opened the front driver's side door and he would know that she was crazy if she thought she was going to drive. But, instead, she gently guided him through the door and he fell heavily into the driver's seat. Dazed for an instant, he was brought back to a still-drunken lucidity when she climbed in on top of him, pressed tight against him, face to face, squeezed between his body and the steering column. Grimacing uncomfortably, she reached down to move the seat back and deeming it acceptable.

And just like that, her attention was back on him as she ran both hands through his hair, just above his ears, and kissed him hungrily. Either the scotch or Derek himself gave it right back to her, angry, wishing that his mind could really be on this girl right now and not with another. His brain and certain other body parts were telling him to kiss her back like he should be kissing a stranger. He tried to act like any other man with the prospect of fucking a hot stranger in her car: with excitement and abandon. Something was holding him back, though, and he couldn't stand it.

This stranger was like cheap wine, something that was meant to be good but just ended up tasting bitter. But, even though it was close to awful, he couldn't stop. One hand cupped her cheek and the other fell to her waist as she held his lower lip between hers. In the meantime, her back accidentally-on-purpose bumped into the dashboard and her CD player turned on, an absolutely filthy rap song pouring from the speakers.

_Girl you workin' with some ass yeah, you bad yeah_ – profound. It made Derek question her age.

"Is this legal?" he asked uneasily, hoping for anything that could possibly give him a reason to make this stop.

She laughed, a drunken hiccupping laugh, and smiled like it definitely wasn't the first time she'd been asked that question. "Yes, I promise," she replied before her lips were on his again, hard, like she wanted to forget something too. Like she needed to forget something too.

Their lips didn't part for a very long time, and they breathed heavily through their noses. His hands moved to her breasts in an attempt to get over his block, because if she was allowed to be forward, he was allowed to be bold. She arched into his touch before her lips went for his neck, moving slowly across his skin. Derek tensed and relaxed at the same time at the tingling sensation of her mouth skimming along his neck. He grabbed the hemline of her shirt and she allowed him to pull it over her head, revealing a slender stomach and black bra.

She kissed him again as he, close to reluctance, touched the newly bare skin. He felt her hands travel southward, down, down, down, to the waistline of his pants. Her smirk curled against his lips as she unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, giving the erection that had still managed to grow there a little bit more breathing room. Then, she did the same to her own pants and shimmied out of them, kicking them from around her ankles onto the passenger seat.

She settled onto his lap again, circling her hips against his three times, enough to finally make him moan. Taking that as a good sign, she rested her weight on her knees and tugged his pants down just a little more, so that the waistband was just above his knees. Then, she reached down and began to stroke him through his briefs, tearing a loud gasp from his throat.

This was bad, Derek thought, very bad. This wasn't right. He was cheating and it was terrible but he was just so tired of everything and she was doing some damn fine things with her fingers. The warmth of her hand on his piece, dulled from the fabric of his underwear between them, and the mixed feelings whirling through him attacked his brain simultaneously, waging a war against one another and mutually assured destruction was far from occurring.

He wanted to articulate something, anything besides the incoherent drunken pleasure sounds he was making. The tiny sober part of his mind left struggled to formulate something to say.

"Name," he sputtered, squeezing his eyes shut, swallowing hard as she was about to reach inside of his briefs. He wanted to distract her and not to distract her at the same time, and his irresolution was killing him. "Your name."

It wasn't phrased as a question, but she got the gist of it. "Alexandra," she answered, halting the movement of her hand on his penis, and he didn't know whether to be exasperated with it or thankful for it.

In an attempt to divert his thoughts from the partly-unwelcome throbbing in his groin, he tried her name out. "_Alexandra_." It did roll off the tongue pretty well, he had to admit.

She giggled. "Yep. But everyone calls me Lexie," she said, smiling seductively, lips hovering just far enough away from his. "Lexie Grey."

She might as well had just punched him in the gut or thrown a bucket of ice-cold water on him, because that was exactly what it felt like. He was suddenly sobered, ripped from either a dream or a nightmare. All of the air rushed from his lungs until it hurt because they couldn't contract anymore. His stomach turned hollow and he suppressed what could have been the bitterest laugh to ever come from him.

That exact name had been thrown around excitedly by Thatcher recently. Everything came together, painfully clear, only much too late. Massachusetts. Harvard Med. The funeral. Susan Grey.

Of course the damn girl he met in the bar would just happen to be Meredith's half-sister.

He couldn't escape her, no matter how hard he tried.

The girl whom he now knew was Lexie moved in to kiss him and he quickly evaded it, jerking his chin up into the air, hitting her quite hard with his jaw and taking a jab from one of her teeth in the process. It was awkward and embarrassing and terrible, all of the things that tonight had suddenly wound up being.

Holding her mouth, she was about to say something. But he cut her off. "I can't do this," he said resolutely, shaking his head vigorously. She blanched.

"What?" she stammered, eyes suddenly frantic. "I mean, I thought this was..." She raised her eyebrows at him. "You don't want this?" she asked in a combination of disbelief and a shoddily-veiled disappointment.

"I can't do this," he repeated, not even apologetically, sliding one hand down his face; he was already itching to get out of the damn car and to wherever he would sleep that night.

She gave him another incredulous look, dark eyes trying their best not to look hurt. She bit her lower lip and furrowed her brow, eyes searching the ceiling of her car for nothing in particular. "You know what?" she said at last, exasperatedly, looking back at Derek and running her hands through her hair. "Fine. Just get out."

Part of him wanted to apologize for not being the escape she needed to cope. But she couldn't be his either. Still, his mouth opened to speak. She stopped him before there was a word. "Get out." She grasped the door handle and pushed it open, lifting her leg so that he could slide out. As he did, he heard her, obviously mortified, muttering something about calling Molly.

They didn't make eye contact again.

His mind had recovered from the scotch, but his body was slower to respond. So, it took a lot of concentration to begin the walk of shame across Joe's parking lot. His jeans were still around his ankles so he quickly pulled them up, and he knew that he really had to be a sight to see. He needed to call a cab. He needed to get away from where he was, as fast as possible.

He stood for a long moment in the darkness, staring straight ahead at nothing at all. The implications still hadn't totally set in. He almost just had sex with his still-girlfriend's half-sister. It just wasn't him. Then again, not a lot was those days.

Still, nobody knew. Nobody had to know. Life would go on, the night would end, and nobody would be any the wiser to what had happened in that car. Not Meredith, not Mark, not Addison.

Nobody but himself.

He would know. And that thought alone was haunting. A tiny voice in the back of his head that he so wanted to silence was wondering how long it would be until someone found out.

There was a chance that Lexie would know, too. There was that chance that she wasn't so drunk that all of the memories from tonight would be just static. She could remember everything just as well as he would.

A chill ran up Derek's spine, and then back down again.

The little voice piped up again, and he just knew that it wasn't the last time he'd be seeing her.

The issue that remained was what tonight would come to mean or to ruin, for both of them, when they would meet again.


End file.
